by Bishop James Conley
“A pilgrimage is, of course, an expedition to some venerated place to which a vivid memory of sacred things experienced, or a long and wonderful history of human experience in divine matters, or a personal attraction affecting the soul impels one….
“But there has always hung round the idea of a pilgrimage… something more than the mere objective. Just as in general worship you will have noble gowns, vivid color, and majestic music (symbols, but necessary symbols of the great business you are at); so, in this particular case of worship, clothes, as it were, and accoutrements, gather round one’s principal action. I will visit the grave of a saint or of a man whom I venerate privately for his virtues and deeds, but on my way I wish to do something a little difficult to show at what a price I hold communion with his resting-place, and also on the way I will see all I can of men and things; for anything great and worthy is but an ordinary thing transfigured, and if I am about to venerate a humanity absorbed into the divine, so it behoves me on my journey to it to enter into and delight in the divine that is hidden in everything. Thus I may go upon a pilgrimage with no pack and nothing but a stick and my clothes, but I must get myself into the frame of mind that carries an invisible burden, an eye for happiness and suffering, humor, gladness at the beauty of the world, a readiness for raising the heart at the vastness of a wide view, and especially a readiness to give multitudinous praise to God; for a man that goes on a pilgrimage does best of all if he starts out… with the heart of a wanderer, eager for the world as it is, forgetful of maps or descriptions, but hungry for real colors and men and the seeming of things. This desire for reality and contact is a kind of humility, this pleasure in it a kind of charity.”
These words of the English Catholic writer, Hilaire Belloc, in his essay “The Idea of a Pilgrimage,” capture for me the wonderful experience I just had of walking the middle portion of the Camino to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. This is the third time I have walked the Camino. The first two times I walked the last 100 miles of the Camino, from O’Cebreiro to Santiago. This time I walked from Burgos to O’Cebreiro, a distance of approximately 200 miles. The total length of the Camino Frances (French Way) is just under 500 miles, from the French border with Spain, high in the Pyrenees mountains, in the village of St. Jean de Pied Port, to Santiago de Compostela on the west coast of Spain.
There are actually 15 different routes to Santiago throughout Spain, but the French route is by far the most popular, due to the fact that in the middle ages, Christians from France traveled by the thousands to venerate the burial spot of St. James the Greater, one of the twelve apostles and a personal friend of Jesus Christ.
My fellow pilgrims were Archbishop Paul Coakley, the Archbishop of Oklahoma City, and Bishop James Wall, the Bishop of Gallup, New Mexico. We made the pilgrimage from O’Cebreiro to Santiago back in 2012 with two other brother priests, but this time we wanted to do the central portion of the Camino, through the heart of Spain.
The terrain and the topography of the central portion of the Camino was very much like the plains of Nebraska and Kansas. We walked through miles and miles of golden wheat stubble, newly harvested; and fields and fields of ripening corn. It really felt like home, except of course, the language and the customs were entirely different.
I made the pilgrimage with the intention of giving gratitude to God for his goodness to me, particularly during my recent personal struggles and difficulties over these past four years, and in thanksgiving for the wonderful priests, consecrated religious and lay faithful of the Diocese of Lincoln. We carried a Mass kit and vestments with us, and offered the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass each day at our village of destination.
I offered my daily Mass for a specific person or groups of persons in the diocese, along with the pain and suffering of the arduous 6- to 7-hour daily walk, for their special intentions, health and well-being.
We covered anywhere from 15-24 miles per day. I had surgery in the spring on both of my feet to correct old running injuries, so I had a lot to offer up! Full disclosure: I hopped a taxi on three of our walking days, to rest and recover. It had been 10 years since the three of us had walked the Camino together, and so I underestimated the pounding on my knees. My feet held up pretty well, all things considered, but they were swollen each day. At several villages we were able to soak our feet in a cold stream or outdoor bath, which was heavenly.
The central idea of a pilgrimage is the fact that a pilgrimage is a metaphor for life. We are all pilgrims on this earth, making our way to heaven. We have no lasting home here on earth. We are always “on the way.” And in the end, we can’t take anything with us.
Walking the Camino reminds one of this reality. Time slows down. You become more aware of the simple things, the simple beauties of God’s creation, the land, the crops, the sky, the sunrises and the sunsets, and of course, the stars – the Compostela. It was the miraculous “field of stars” that allowed the 9th century Spanish bishop of the region to rediscover the lost tomb of St. James the Apostle.
Like Belloc describes so beautifully in “The Idea of a Pilgrimage,” I tried my best to have “an eye for happiness and suffering, humor, gladness at the beauty of the world, a readiness for raising the heart at the vastness of a wide view, and especially a readiness to give multitudinous praise to God.”
And while it is true that the objective or goal of a pilgrimage is important, it’s what happens “on the way” that draws our attention and praise. As Belloc said, “the hunger and delight for real colors and men and the seeming of things. This desire for reality and contact is a kind of humility, this pleasure in it a kind of charity.”
When we reached O’Cebreiro on the 16th day of our walk, a priest friend from Santiago picked us up and drove us the last 100 miles to Santiago where we rested the last three days and celebrated Mass each day in the glorious Cathedral. On the last day before returning home, I was privileged to offer Mass as the principal celebrant over the tomb of my namesake, St. James the Greater, on September 1. I offered that Mass for all of the faithful of the Diocese of Lincoln.
